Time To Move On
by mum-to-you
Summary: Post-OotP, and Remus and Harry are learning to cope with Sirius' death. Harry learns to rely on someone else, and Remus finally begins to grieve. HG shipped and RS assumed.


Time To Move On  
  
Harry stormed into his dormitory and threw his Quidditch robes onto the bed and shouted, "Bloody hell!"  
  
She made him so mad! _Maybe if you'd quit brooding so much and get on with things, you could pay attention and actually remember to catch the damned Snitch!_ he mimicked in her indignant, condescending tone. What did she expect? Gosh, let's see, they were all almost killed by Death Eaters last spring, Voldemort came very close getting hold of the prophecy, and Sirius--  
  
Damn. Don't even think about that. He pushed the thought far away from him, out of reach.  
  
Girls! Why didn't they act in a rational and logical manner? Then unbidden, the scene replayed in his mind, and even alone here in his room, he blushed when he thought back to last night in the common room. He had been playing wizard chess with Ron and was losing spectacularly, when he heard a musical laugh from across the room. He looked up, and there she was, the firelight behind her hair, glowing like copper. For just a moment, he couldn't seem to breathe. Merlin, Ron would kill him if he knew. So much for rational and logical, he thought.  
  
He really needed someone to talk to. He supposed it was the natural progression of thought, but it was still odd that he first thought of Mr. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley was always making them laugh with stories about when they had been students--love potions, out until four in the morning--he couldn't even imagine Mr. and Mrs. Weasley visiting the Astronomy--no, he was absolutely not going to think about that!  
  
But if anyone did, Mr. Weasley was sure to understand what Harry had experienced last night, just to look up and see--he closed his eyes and remembered, Merlin, that hair! Just thinking about it made his chest ache. He and Ron had sniggered at Mr. Weasley this past summer when they would catch him looking at Mrs. Weasley when he didn't think anyone was looking. Ron had called his dad mental, and now Harry snorted when he realized that he'd probably had the exact same dopey look on his face last night.  
  
Harry went over to the desk and took out a piece of parchment and a quill and started writing. _Dear Mr. Weasley--_ He stopped in horror. Oh, Merlin, this was the exactly wrong thing to do. What could he be thinking? You just couldn't go asking a man these kinds of questions when you're talking about his own--stupid, stupid, stupid. He wadded up the parchment and threw it across the room in frustration.  
  
It landed on bedside table next to small square mirror. Harry walked over and picked up the mirror. A pang of guilt shot through him. If he had just used the mirror to contact Sirius, none if it would have happened. But he hadn't used it because he'd wanted to keep Sirius safe. The irony was almost unbearable. He had actually broken the mirror in a fit of temper last spring, but the broken glass in his trunk had made it impossible to pack properly, so he had repaired it. After all, it was one of the few souvenirs of Sirius that he had.  
  
"Sirius," he whispered, "I really need to talk to you." He knew Sirius couldn't hear him and wouldn't answer, but he kept talking. "I need to talk to you. About, well, girls. And love and stuff. Merlin, this is embarrassing. Well, not even girls, but one girl. I'm really confused and scared, and I don't know what to do."  
  
Harry gasped in astonishment as a voice from the mirror asked, "Harry, is that you?"

* * *

Remus Lupin supported himself on his cane as he walked down the upstairs hallway of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. It was the day after the full moon, and he was so tired. But this had to be done. With one hand, he held up his wand, which was levitating the trunk behind him.  
Molly Weasley had approached him the day before the full moon and told him that Dumbledore was sending some people to the house for a while because they needed a safe place to hide. The war was just beginning, but already families were being displaced. They really needed to do something about Sirius' room. He could hear the concern in her voice and could tell she would have preferred not to bring up the subject at all. But she was right, the room was needed, and there was no reason for it to sit empty.  
  
She had offered to clean things out, but he had just shaken his head no and said he would prefer to do it alone. Then she looked at him with an understanding he hadn't expected and suggested that he move into Sirius' room himself. That had taken his breath away, and at first he couldn't even consider it. Then it hit him how painful it would be to have someone else in that room where they--no, he simply couldn't stand that.  
  
So here he was, standing in the middle of Sirius'--no _his_ room, just staring at the wall. He wasn't even sure now what he had been dreading by not coming in for so long. He set the trunk down in the corner and then sat down in the middle of floor to think. It felt familiar and safe, after all, and in truth, there really wasn't much there. Some clothes, and those hand-me-downs from Merlin knew where, three framed pictures--one of James and Lily dancing at their wedding, one of Harry in his Quidditch robes flying on his Firebolt, and one of him and Sirius, grinning at each other like idiots last summer when Sirius had come to stay with him--some toiletries, a hairbrush, and a small square mirror. That was it. That was all that was left of him.  
  
He found himself becoming angry. Damn you, Sirius, why didn't you obey orders and stay home? You just had to go tearing off, half-cocked, into danger, when we had things under control. He pounded the floor with his fists.  
  
But, he thought with resignation, that was what he loved most about Sirius-- his bravery, his impetuosity, even his cheerful arrogance--the things that completed Remus' own caution and modesty. Sirius' forceful and persuasive personality had made him seem larger than life, while he, in his effort to remain unnoticed, seemed to shrink in comparison. He remembered with a sardonic laugh how people were often surprised to realize that he was actually the taller of the two by several inches. No, in the end, he wouldn't have wanted Sirius to be any other way. Except that, in the end, he didn't have Sirius at all.  
  
He ground the palms of his hands into his eyes to stem the hot flow of tears he had fought for months, but it was too late. The grief he had been running away from so desperately had at last caught up with him, and he felt himself give way to the aching loneliness and despair inside him. He wrapped his arms around his knees and with a great shudder finally let his body convulse with sobs. It had been a long time coming.  
  
He shook with the misery of believing Sirius was the enemy for so long and all the years they could have had, wasted; the grief that their time together afterwards had been so brutally short; his own horror and helplessness at watching Sirius from across that cavernous room as his body arched up, as if in slow motion, and disappeared behind the veil; the unspeakable anguish of losing him again, this time for good. After what seemed like ages, the sobs subsided. He gasped and gulped in air. Then he heard it. Someone was calling Sirius.  
  
How very surreal, he thought. He propped himself up with his cane and stood up. The voice seemed to be coming from Sirius' old mirror. He limped unsteadily over towards the dressing table and listened. Someone talking about a girl. Merlin, he thought with smile, it's Harry! Of course Sirius would have given the other mirror to Harry. The relief of such a normal and mundane adolescent concern amused him, but he realized that whatever the problem was, it was serious to Harry.  
  
He picked up the mirror and asked, "Harry, is that you?"  
  
Silence. Then a tentative "Professor Lupin?"  
  
"Yes, Harry, it's me. And, please, call me Remus."  
  
"Er. I didn't realize anyone was, erm, listening."  
  
Remus smiled wanly, "No, I imagine not." He hobbled over to the chair by the hearth and sat down before continuing. He looked into the mirror and saw Harry's face, horrified that he had been overheard. "Go on, Harry, tell me what's wrong," he encouraged.  
  
"Pr--er, Remus. It's--nothing really. It's kind of stupid."  
  
"It didn't sound stupid a minute ago. Something about a girl, I believe. That's hardly stupid."  
  
Harry took a deep breath. "Remus, do you know what it's like to have a really good friend, and then one day you look at them, and all of a sudden it hits you that you don't want to be friends anymore? I mean, not _just _friends. Does that make sense?"  
  
Remus' eyes were drawn like a magnet to the bed. He swallowed hard as tears pricked his eyelids again, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, Harry, I believe I have some idea what you're going through."  
  
Harry was a little taken aback at his candor and asked, "Was she pretty? Oh, that's a stupid question. Of course, you thought she was."  
  
Remus' mouth twitched and he answered, "That kind of goes along with loving someone, doesn't it? What about this girl of yours?"  
  
"Well, she used to be more like a sister, but not now." Harry got an uncharacteristically dreamy look on his face. "Really grown up, she has. Beautiful red hair, and she's so pretty when she sits by the fire and . . ." he trailed off, embarrassed.  
  
Remus smiled. "Ah, and does the lovely Miss Weasley return these lofty sentiments?"  
  
Harry blushed scarlet. "How did you know I was talking about Ginny?"  
  
Remus laughed, "Lucky guess, let's call it. Myself, I preferred brunets."  
  
Harry got quiet. "It's good to talk to you about all this, er, Remus. Embarrassing, but good. But still, I miss Sirius."  
  
The tears welled up in Remus' eyes again and spilled down his face. He could barely whisper. "So do I, Harry. More than you could possibly know."  
  
Harry's eyes grew wide as he began to comprehend exactly what Remus was saying. He whistled through his teeth and muttered, "Merlin, haven't I just been clueless!" Remus just shrugged and seemed reluctant to meet Harry's gaze.  
  
"So then, you really do know how I feel? I mean, it's even worse for you, isn't it? You really loved him."  
  
Remus shook his head dismally, "Not worse, Harry. Just different. And yes, I really loved him."  
  
Through the mirror, Harry's eyes met Remus', and in that instant, they forged a new kinship. That was really the only way to describe it: family.  
  
"Remus, what would Sirius have done if he were me?"  
  
Remus thought back to their last year at Hogwarts, when he and Sirius had finally made peace with what they meant to each other. As Harry had said, all of sudden, not just friends anymore. He laughed remembering that first painfully awkward, embarrassing moment and answered, "Sirius would always say the first word and make the first move. He'd be scared as all hell, but you wouldn't know it unless he told you. And he didn't tell many people."  
  
"But he told you."  
  
"He told me. And he was scared shiteless about that particular conversation, if you'll pardon my French."  
  
Harry laughed nervously. "So am I."  
  
"Well, I'd consider you a fool if you weren't. That's your nerves telling you how important she is to you. And if you're interested in my advice, as well, I'd agree with Sirius. Go for it." He waved his hand in an elegant gesture and continued with a choked voice, "The way things are now, you never know how much time you've got. Or how much you could lose in the blink of an eye. Don't waste it, Harry, it's too precious."  
  
Harry nodded soberly. "I know. Thanks, Remus. You've really helped."  
  
"So have you, Harry. Here I've just been stuck in the past, and you've reminded me how important it is that life go on. And, if you don't mind, I'll just hang on to Sirius' mirror. I'd like to know how things turn out."  
  
Harry nodded again. "Remus, it's getting late, and I think I need to go talk to Ginny. I owe her an apology."  
  
"Always a good way to start, Harry. Good luck." He watched as Harry's face receded in the mirror and disappeared. Remus stared back at his own scarred reflection. He set the mirror down and limped over to the bed. He was so, so tired. He took off his robes and got ready for bed. He lay down, wrapped his arms around Sirius' pillow, and, holding it tightly to his chest, let the tears return. "Padfoot, I'm so sorry I couldn't save you. Couldn't save us," he wept, "but I promise you, I'll take good care of Harry. I have to help him move on, Padfoot, and to do that, I have to move on, too. Please, please, forgive me." 


End file.
